


Fic: You Gotta Have a Plan Green Cortina

by Walkerbaby



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-12
Updated: 2008-09-12
Packaged: 2017-11-10 22:37:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/471464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walkerbaby/pseuds/Walkerbaby





	Fic: You Gotta Have a Plan Green Cortina

  


Title - You Gotta Have a Plan  
Rating - Green Cortina for language  
Disclaimer - Kudos and BBC aren't quite this cracked thankfully. Although if I really owned them I'd never have actually done this.  
Author's Note - Inspired by a wonderful bit of [](http://mikes-grrl.livejournal.com/profile)[**mikes_grrl**](http://mikes-grrl.livejournal.com/) 's fiction [Five Ways to I love You ](http://mikes-grrl.livejournal.com/77828.html#cutid1). I just could not let it go and this little bit of crack is the result.  
Author's Summary - In this line of work you've got to be prepared for anything and I do mean anything.

 

"Boss?" Chris said tentatively. 

Sam looked up, exhausted, from the paperwork littering his desk about the newest spate of murders to sweep through Manchester. People were being found dead all over the city, the only common link being that they were quite literally being ripped apart. Sam had tried to profile them by age, gender, race, economic status, religion, he’d even gone so far as to profile what football team they supported. 

Nothing matched and all Annie could tell him with a psychological profile was that the killer was very angry. Like he couldn’t tell that from the way he’d ripped the head cleanly off the body of the first victim. That was not the act of a well-adjusted, nicely behaved killer as far as Sam could tell. No, he decided, ripping the dead off of a little old woman definitely fell into the angry and maladjusted category. 

"Boss," Chris said more urgently and Sam could see he was shaking slightly. 

"What Chris?" 

"I think I might have a lead on those murders that were taking place," Chris’s voice was almost a squeak. 

"Really?" Sam looked up at him hopefully. "You have a lead? A hunch? A key piece of evidence I missed due to exhaustion?" 

"Not exactly," Chris swallowed. "I think you should come up to the roof with me." 

"The roof?" 

"Yes," Chris nodded. "I really think the roof might be the best place to discuss this Sir. Perhaps with a stop at the armory first but then yes I think maybe we should go to the roof." 

"Why?" Sam was perplexed. "Is the evidence on the roof?" 

"No," Chris shook his head. "But the zombies aren’t." 

"Zombies? DC Skelton have you been dipping into the Guv’s top file cabinet drawer?" Sam glared at Chris.

"No Boss," Chris shook his head vehemently. "Zombies. Real zombies. Surrounding the station." 

"Zombies?" 

"They ate PC Terminal." 

"Now I know you’re lying," Sam snorted. "We don’t have a PC Terminal." 

Just then the doors of CID flew open and Phyllis glared at Chris and Sam. "Why haven’t you moved them yet you stupid bastard?" She shrieked angrily at Chris. "I’m not moving these scum out of the cells by myself!"

"Why are you taking the prisoners out of the cells?" Sam asked incredulously. 

"The damn zombies you twat!" Phyllis retorted. "Sir." 

"All right," Sam sighed. "I’m playing along. I will go outside and let you all get a great laugh out of the fact that DI Tyler went out to look at the zombies. At least tell me someone is out there dressed up in a costume and moaning for brains. Otherwise Chris, you are never getting out of the Collator’s Den." 

"Sir," Chris followed after him. "I really think you should come to the roof Sir." 

"Right," Sam nodded. "So you can lock me up there like Ray did when I first got here. I don’t think so DC Skelton. Let’s go look at these zombi-" Sam cut off then at the sight that greeted him in reception of the station. 

"I, um, told you Sir." Chris remarked as he and Sam backed slowly back up the stairs. 

The first zombie let out a wounded moan and pointed at Sam. "Braiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnssssssss!" 

"Um, sir?" Chris tugged urgently on his jacket. "What should we do?" 

"Run!" Sam snapped into action and chased Chris up the stairs. ‘Get the rest of CID, we need to evacuate the station." 

"Back door," Chris suggested. 

"Right," Sam agreed. "There is no shame in running away from the undead through a back door." 

"We could always shoot them?" 

"No," Sam shook his head. "Won’t work. We need shovels. You get the team and I’ll find the Guv. We need to determine what our zombie plan is." 

"Our what?" Sam spun around as he heard Gene behind him. 

"Zombie plan." Sam repeated. "You know the plan that we use when the station is overrun by zombies? That plan. We’re being overrun by zombies at Phyllis’s desk and now is the time to implement that plan." 

"You been seeing Lucy again Sam? You like her in those diamonds don’t you?" 

"Look down into reception," Sam pointed with his chin. He thought it likely that the zombies didn’t know how to work the lift and that the staircase might slow them slightly. Then he heard the first scream of horror. The cells. Well evacuating them would no longer be an issue, he thought glumly. They had lost several good fighters though. On the bright side, they had 20 crims in the cells, that should slow the zombies down long enough for their escape. 

"Fucking hell," Gene swore as he came back from looking down the staircase. He reached out and pulled a smoke from his pocket as he stared at Sam. "Are those?" 

"Zombies?" Sam prompted. "Yeah. Zombies. Army of zombies in our police station eating our prisoners. So what’s the plan?" 

"Plan?" 

"Please tell me you have a zombie plan," Sam sighed. "Really, please just tell me for once you have what I need when I need it. Tell me you have a zombie plan." 

"Who the hell has a plan for this?" Gene retorted. "Don’t tell me you had a plan at Hyde in case you were attacked by zombies? Next you’ll tell me you had a plan in case vampires ponced on in wearing frilly shirts." 

"Actually," Sam stopped. "No, we didn’t have a plan for vampires. That was," he stopped. "Nevermind, that’s not really important. What’s important is we have no plan and we have zombies in reception." 

"No," Gene corrected. "What’s important right now is why exactly Hyde had a zombie plan! Are these zombies from Hyde? Is that what you do there? You create zombies to unleash on my city?" 

"How can you blame me for this?" Sam screamed back. "They’re zombies! I know you think everything is my fault! Every failure and mishap is somehow due to me and my new ideas but come on - ZOMBIES!" 

"Right," Gene agreed. "Takes a little bit more smarts than even you’ve got Tyler to make a zombie." 

"Um sirs?" Chris tugged at Sam’s sleeve. 

"What?" 

"Could we not argue about whose fault the zombies are? Maybe we could work on that zombie plan the Boss was talking about instead?" 

"Right," Gene snapped. "Plan, now." 

"Back door, Cortina, nearest home and garden store." Sam said quickly. "We need shovels, lots and lots of shovels. Then we need to order people to evacuate if they want. Otherwise people need to meet at a central place, get organized, barricade ourselves in, find out where else is infected." 

"That’s your plan?" Gene snorted as they made their way into CID. "Raymondo, we’ve got zombies move your arse." 

"Right," Ray agreed; not stopping to question his Guv. 

"Where’s Annie?" Sam asked Phyllis as they made their way toward the deserted back door. 

"She was in the canteen, poor girl," Phyllis grimaced. 

Sam shook his head. If they’d made it to the cells there was no way they hadn’t reached the canteen. All he could hope was that Annie and Gwen hadn’t suffered much. 

"So sir," Chris asked later, once they’d barricaded inside the Railway Arms. "Did you really have a zombie plan in Hyde?" 

"Yeah," Sam took a sip of his whiskey.

"What made you think of that then Gladys?" Gene asked wearily. 

"Um," Sam blushed. 

"Come on Gladys, out with it." 

"Conference on terrorism in London," Sam muttered. 

"And you decided to be an overachiever and do your book report on killer zombies then?" 

"No," Sam turned an even more vibrant shade of red and stared hard at his drink. "Bunch of us got pissed the last night and worked it out on a pub napkin don’t know how but it ended up in my wallet." 

"Have to get you pissed more often then Dorothy," Gene motioned for a tired looking Nelson to bring Sam another drink. "That zombie plan thing of yours saved a lot of lives today." 

"Thanks Guv," Sam nodded. 

Gene leaned over then to pat Sam lightly on the knee, underneath the table where no one else can see. "Don’t worry, I’ll thank you a bit more later this morning." 


End file.
